During my second year of undergrad, I grew a belly. For the first 19 years of my life, I was a beanpole, seriously skinny, with no hips or boobs. When I started taking oral contraceptives, I sprouted the hips that my mom and aunt have and a modest set of Bs. A belly also emerged! WOOTSTOCK. I was not particularly appreciative at first of my new protruding stomach; it boiled over when I sat down, it made finding jeans that fit properly a bit more difficult. Everyone wants washboard abs, right? Everyone wants abs like Gwen Stefani's.
Well. Gwen's abs are very nice. I think she could zest lemons on them. But not everyone can maintain a flat stomach even if they do one hundred crunches a day and live on bunny feed. I am coming around on my stomach. Part of my gentler feelings toward it come from the fact that my manfriend likes it. He likes, as he says, something to lay his head on. Sometimes what is needed is to be able to see yourself through someone else's eyes. So my belly and I are better friends now. It's there, creating a dip between it and my hipbones. It will probably never be completely flat again. But that's all right. Curve on, belly!
1 comment:
Thanks, Carla! I look forward to the day when women enjoying the way they look is not a radical thing.
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